


above muddy water

by starkilling



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Descriptions of Blood, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkilling/pseuds/starkilling
Summary: His heart skips what feels like three beats, because the blood doesn’t scare him as much as the next thing he sees: a large lotus petal, also spattered with the same blood. And on the floor beneath the sink, an entire flower.or: Keith quickly learns the pain of loss and the hope of love.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	above muddy water

**Author's Note:**

> this is my VERY VERY VERY VERY VERRRRRRRRRY overdue sheithlentines 2021 piece! katie, i am SO sorry it took this long. i wanted it to be perfect and life was also beating my ass a _lot_. please enjoy and forgive me for taking this long! i hope you like!

Keith doesn’t get close to people,  _ period _ . There are very few exceptions to this, especially in school life, where he carefully lets down his barriers and opens up a little. He hasn’t had a genuine, real relationship since his late father. And that’s been… a long time. He hardly remembers much of his childhood anymore, a lot of it has been shut out, but the day his dad didn’t come home is as clear as memories from yesterday. 

Instead there was a knock on the door and a gentle entry from fellow firefighters Keith knew—dad had them around often for drinks and watching sports. He was young then, far too young, but something about the look on their faces was unmistakable. There was no age limit nor level of maturity needed to understand that, based on their broken expressions alone, his father was not coming home again. And Keith tried to be strong, he really did, but patching himself together could only work for so long until he burst at the seams at his final foster home and broke apart. 

He’s been alone since then, navigating his final year of school on his own accord with what little motivation to mean something he has left. 

But, as mentioned, there are a few exceptions. Pidge, for one. She’s a sweetheart, having been the first to show Keith some degree of friendliness. He missed class on a day due to inner demons keeping him in bed and she walked up to him on her own accord to offer copies of her notes. Keith couldn’t say no to the unexpected kindness, and it was the first time in a long time his lips cracked into a little smile. They study together occasionally, because Katie excels far above Keith in computer sciences and Keith has a knack for astronomy and physics. Mutually beneficial tutoring when needed comes easy. 

Keith is also friendly with Katie’s other friends, too. Hunk and Lance are kind of a duo and, in Keith’s opinion, polar opposites. Lance is stubborn, brash, and unpredictable while Hunk is collected, organized, and steady. He has to hand it to Lance, though, because Lance has the bravery to make jabs at Keith when he least expects it. Sometimes it’s unwelcomed banter, but it gives him a sense of normalcy in an otherwise unexciting, depressing life. Even when he’s an ass, there’s an endearing aspect to it.

And then there’s Shiro. Oh,  _ Shiro _ .

During a time when Keith had been struggling with Advanced Calculus, Shiro was assigned to him as a tutor. Keith still feels bad for how adamant he was about succeeding on his own at first, being pointedly rude and rather harsh. But Shiro was patient, gentle, and never lost his temper. He never pushed Keith’s boundaries, always stepping away when Keith had clearly reached his limit with listening to someone else. That patience and encouragement eroded Keith’s walls at record speed, and before long he was opening up his mind—and heart—to this tooth-rottingly kind man. 

Nobody believed in Keith, but Shiro did. Did so much that it made up for every person who didn’t after his father’s passing. 

Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Keith to find himself up late at night plagued by wishful thinking instead of sleeping, dreaming of a very unattainable relationship. Even if he succumbed to exhaustion, his subconscious was filled with the same images. Images of what it’d be like to come home to that smile every day, and it was that picture that did him in. Made him fall. 

He’s been unable to get it out of his head ever since. For something that goes against every instinct he’s built up over the years, it’s powerful and all-encompassing. It distracts him in daily life, takes from his focus—but not in the obstacle, annoying way. He rides the high, but it makes him too hopeful, gives him the opportunity to feel like he deserves something like this. He doesn’t, though, at least not someone as pure and as friendly as Shiro. Keith is damaged goods and a discipline case—he’s dirt on the ground. Shiro is all of the flowers in the fields. All of the stars in the sky.

Keith can live with keeping his feelings to himself, he resolved that long ago. As long as Shiro is happy, he is happy. Shiro not being his is better than no Shiro at all, that’s an easy way to rationalize it. Even if it hurts sometimes, and Keith has been hurt so much in his life. He’s used to it, but most of all, he’d welcome being hurt by Shiro. 

At least he would in theory, if the hurt wasn’t physical.

Lately he’s been feeling run down and fatigued, lacking more sleep than usual. Each night for the past week he’s been going to bed with a tight chest and it usually resolves itself by the time he gets up the following morning, but today the constriction sticks with him. He’s struggling to pay attention in class, distracted by the feeling of someone tying ropes right around his ribcage. It’s not painful, per se, but it  _ aches _ . Especially when he turns to cough in his fist. Then the ache intensifies tenfold, and Keith finds himself unable to control the onslaught of spluttering and wheezing that immediately overwhelms him. He stands up abruptly and pretends he doesn’t see the concerned stares of the students and teacher, making a bee-line for the door and then the bathroom.

His hands brace the edge of the sink as he coughs into it, gasping for breath between each shudder of his lungs. The ache grows into an intense burn, like flames licking up his chest and the smoke choking him. For a solid moment he thinks he’s about to suffocate alone just from the hacking, but then something spits from his mouth and into the sink. Immediately his airways clear and relax. Keith takes a moment to collect himself and wipe the back of his hand along his sweaty forehead, gulping air like a glass of water on a sweltering day. 

When his eyes fall to the sink, he’s alarmed to see blood. His heart skips what feels like three beats, because the blood doesn’t scare him as much as the next thing he sees: a large lotus petal, also spattered with the same blood. And on the floor beneath the sink, an entire flower. 

He just coughed up a flower, unless he’s hallucinating. Keith wipes the back of his mouth and gulps, hoping it’s the latter. But he knows it isn’t, especially when he reaches into the sink and plucks the dainty petal from the porcelain. Staring at it feels surreal to him—this was in his lungs, but how? Keith doesn’t keep flowers at home. Lotuses don’t grow in the desert. This is something different and, unfortunately, completely unheard of. He has to get to the bottom of it. 

Keith knows who to talk to. He washes off both the flower and the petal, stuffs them into his pocket, and gets his phone out to text Pidge. 

_ Keith [12:55:39]: Meet me in the library as soon as possible. _

The walk to the library is numbing and gives him the unfortunate chance to get lost in his own head. This ache lasted a few days. If the flowers were really a thing, he’s probably going to cough up more. Something is wrong with him. He doesn’t know what it is. It could be life-threatening. What if it kills him in his sleep?

By the time he’s in the library he’s a shaking mess, eyes blown wide and anxiety coursing through him in a massive flood of fear and worry. He’s able to break free from it momentarily, because Katie catches his eye from the corner of his peripheral vision. She beat him here, in record time. Thank fuck. 

Keith takes a seat next to her at a table and reaches into his pockets. Much to his chagrin, the flower is still there. A massive part of him hoped it would just disappear and become a fever dream. Guess not. He scowls and pulls it out, slapping it on the table with a forlorn stare. Might as well cut to the chase. “I coughed this up. Alone. In the bathroom.”

Pidge blinks, eyes flickering between the flower and Keith. Her lips curl up, and Keith knows she’s not taking him seriously. “You’re joking—you hacked up an entire flower? What, did you eat the wrong seeds or something?”

“Pidge,” Keith’s voice is firm but strained as he speaks. He shakes his head slowly, shoulders tense. “I’m not kidding. It coughed it up, covered in blood.” He goes onto explain how tight he’s been feeling for the past few days, the ache he’s been going to bed with. Quickly Pidge’s amused expression vanishes, replaced with furrowed brows and a concerned look. 

She plucks it from the table, twisting it between her fingers. “It’s definitely a flower,” she says, standing. “Sit tight and give me a few minutes. I’m gonna go through the library’s database to see if I can find anything on this.”

Keith  _ hates  _ waiting. But he’ll do it for her, and leans back into his hair with his face in his hands. What if there’s not a cure for this? What if he’s the first case of a disease that has yet to be discovered, and all he’ll be useful for is research after his death? If Keith had eaten anything this morning, it would be on the table in a much less appealing form by now. 

Minutes feel like hours with Pidge’s research time, and Keith can do nothing but pace in circles, teeth clenched. Every option feels like a dead end—if she doesn’t find anything, going to a doctor won’t do him much help either if the cause of literally coughing  _ flowers  _ is completely unknown. He probably wouldn’t get far anyway, there’s no way they would believe him. Even if they did, how would they solve the problem? 

His head halts when he catches Pidge in his peripheral, approaching with an alarmingly unreadable look on her face. Her lips are drawn thin and her shoulders are tense, bunched towards her ears. Keith doesn’t like what he sees, fists clenching at his sides. “What did you find?” The words are difficult coming out of his mouth—he’s not sure he even wants to know what the answer is, but he expects a very final nothing.

“Something,” she murmurs, and Keith’s eyes widen a fraction. “But it’s very… complicated? I’m not sure I should believe what I saw.” Pidge sets her computer down on the nearby table and begins to type vigorously, shaking her head. “It just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Well share with the crowd, we’re kind of on a tight schedule Katie,” and Keith doesn’t mean to sound harsh but he’s already feeling that telltale burning of flames in his chest again. It’s only a matter of time before bloody petals start spitting out. 

Pidge turns her computer towards Keith to show him the screen. “Hanahaki disease,” she whispers under her breath. “But it’s an old folklore tale, Keith. I don’t want to believe it but it’s all I can work off of.” 

“What’s caused it?”

She looks away again, biting into her lip. There’s a brief shake of her head. “Unrequited love.” 

Keith’s heart drops straight into his stomach—further, maybe, if he wasn’t distracted by the blood rushing in his ears. Unrequited love. 

Shiro.

Of course.

And he doesn’t even have to tell Pidge, because the look on her face when she glances back at him tells him enough. She already knows, probably has known for a while.

The words feel like thorns in his throat when he speaks next. “And what happens if it stays that way?” Because it will. Shiro is too good for him, too gentle and soft and nothing like the roughened edges of Keith. He’s a field of weeds and Shiro is a meadow. 

“Keith,” Pidge mutters in warning. 

“Tell me.”

She’s defeated, eyes almost watering when they meet Keith’s. “They’ll asphyxiate you, Keith. Kill you. Based on the fact that you’ve already coughed up entire flowers, the disease is progressing quickly. You might be gone suddenly and have no idea it’s going to happen.” 

Even though it’s what he expected, it doesn’t make the situation any less dire. Of course this is the end result. Of course this is what his life has come to—a fairy tale disease that is slowly consuming him alive because he’s fallen in love with a completely unattainable man. 

“There’s a cure, though,” she says after a while, snapping the silence. “You won’t like it.” Pidge eyes Keith’s expectant stare and sighs, closing her eyes. “An elvish incantation and a wildflower rosemary potion. It’ll destroy the roots. But there’s a catch.” She avoids Keith’s face this time, shaking her head. “You’ll be cured but you will forget any and all memories of Shiro. It will be like you never met.” 

“No,” Keith immediately snaps, hand slapping on the table. “No. I can’t forget Shiro. I can’t forget everything he’s done for me, every night spent giving a shit when no one else would. I can’t forget all of the reasons I fell in love with him.” His throat tightens and  _ stings  _ so fucking bad, chest a wildfire. “I’d take death over that any day. Forget it.” He turns on his foot and begins to stomp away, holding back violent coughs. 

“Keith—” she calls after him, but he’s already letting the double doors of the library shut behind him. 

——————

Almost immediately he starts avoiding Shiro for the most part, save the few times they meet in the cafeteria for lunch when Keith isn’t busy destroying his lungs. The coughing has almost instantly intensified, probably mocking him for finding the cause. Knowing he’s accepted death. 

And Shiro being Shiro, he immediately picks up on Keith’s avoidance. He’s more inquisitive, gently asking if Keith is okay. If he’s safe. If he’s having any troubles in his classes. Keith brushes it off, just saying he hasn’t slept well lately and that he’s missing his dad. Which isn’t necessarily a lie—the reality of his situation has definitely kept him up and he  _ always  _ misses his dad. It feels better to know he’s at least telling the truth, just omitting some of the important facts.

Something about it isn’t enough for Shiro though, and one day he pulls Keith to the side after classes, gathering them under a willow tree. For a moment Keith gets caught in how beautiful he looks with the gentle wind blowing through his bangs, the way his lashes flutter when he blinks. He almost completely misses him speaking. “Keith I know you say you’re okay, but something’s really wrong. I can tell, and you know you can talk to me. I’ve never given you a reason not to, you know?” 

Keith nods. “I know. And believe me, I’d tell you anything Shiro, I just—this time is different. This time I can’t.” He finds himself unable to look Shiro in the eyes. There’s no way he can confess and embarrass himself. Assuming Shiro wouldn’t return his feelings is better than actually hearing the rejection. He’d rather save himself that little sliver of dignity. 

“Keith, why not? There is nothing on this Earth I would ever judge you for or tell to anyone else. You could never say anything that would upset or hurt me.” His sincerity fractures Keith’s heart, breaking it down into nothing but dust. This would hurt him, though. It would surprise him and disappoint him and make him uncomfortable. He can’t do it. 

His chest aches again. “Shiro I  _ can’t _ . Not this. This is too much. You wouldn’t understand.” Keith tries to draw in a breath but only finds it aborted by the pricking burn. 

“What do you  _ mean  _ I wouldn’t understand, Keith? Don’t you know I’ve been in the same position you have in your life?” He’s getting frustrated, Keith can tell. It only makes him feel worse, and he digs his nails into his palms hoping the pain will distract him enough from the quickly brewing storm in his lungs. “Don’t shut me out. Not me, not now.” 

Keith digs the heels of his palms into his eyes to try to stop them from brimming with tears. “Shiro,  _ please,  _ I—”

And then it starts. Keith tears his hands away and begins to cough violently, gasping for air as his esophagus fills with petals and blood. Shiro is immediately at his side and shouting at him, but Keith can’t hear anything he’s saying over his coughs. It feels like it goes on forever, and the pain is so great that he has to double over to get even the slightest relief from the fit. A hand is patting on his back and while it’s a temporary relief, it only pushes the petals further up his throat. This attack is easily worse than any previous one, blood staining his hands and dripping down his knuckles. Fuck,  _ fuck— _

Finally, it comes out. An entire flower again, surrounded by a few stray petals. It slips from Keith’s hand and falls to the grass beneath them in a bloody little mess, pink and green stained with red. Keith openly gawks at the flower, still tasting metal on his lips as it drips from there down to his chin. Then he looks at Shiro, and his heart sinks. Shocked, wide-eyed, and frozen in his place. Keith can only take in the sight for a few seconds, before the tears finally spill. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then makes a break for it across grass, ignoring the calls of his name as tears leave wet, tacky tracks down his cheeks. 

He skips the next day, and the day after that. In those forty-eight hours, he coughs up an entire pile of petals and three blooms. They end up in the trash can paired with bloody tissues from Keith wiping his mouth. Instead of the sting subsiding in his chest after a while, it stays. Gets worse. Makes him ache and feel like an anvil is resting on his abdomen. 

But he can’t avoid school forever—especially if he has some final loose ends to tie up. He can’t talk to Shiro though—he  _ can’t _ . Not like this, eyes beginning to sink in from exhaustion and body stiff and fatigued. He looks like a ghost already, hardly even a shell. It surely matches the emptiness he’s felt inside himself for so long. 

Since Pidge was the one who helped him discover this predicament, it only makes sense to consult her on how to deal with his end-of-life issues. If there’s any way to lessen the pain of the roots curling up his lungs and digging into his throat, filling up any space left. If he can numb himself, it’ll be better. Maybe it’ll numb him from the reality that he’s going to die, too. His only hope is that he’ll be somewhere where his dad is, too. That’s all he has. 

It’s not just Pidge standing there when he walks into the empty classroom. Right next to her Shiro is standing, arms crossed. Keith freezes in his tracks, staring like he’s been caught in the headlights of a quickly approaching car. Nope. Nope,  _ nope _ . Before he even has the chance to scurry away though, a hand is on his wrist. “Keith,” Shiro pleads. “Don’t run. Please. I promise I’m not mad, let me help you.” 

Keith screws his eyes shut and scowls. “Help me?” His voice is barely there. Speaking hurts so much. “Shiro, there is no helping me. I’m going to die from a mysterious fantasy disease and it can’t be helped.” 

“The cure,” Shiro says. “Katie told me there was one. Why didn’t you take it?” 

From the corner of his eye, Keith can see her sneaking out of the room through a different door.  _ Traitor _ . He looks back to Shiro, lips curled down. “Do you  _ really  _ think I could ever live with myself if I forgot you? No,  _ that’s  _ a fate worse than death.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip, enough to make it hurt. Good, because the pain will distract him from the need to cry. “I would die a million times if it meant never forgetting everything you’ve done for me. Even if you don’t love me like I do you.” 

“Keith—”

He holds his hand up. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain it. I’ve accepted it. As long as I get to remember the person who believed in me when nobody else would, I’m happy, too.” Keith feels himself get a little dizzy, probably from the anxiety. He wobbles, reaching out to catch his balance. Shiro is immediately there, placing a hand on his shoulder with a worried look. Keith shakes his head, grimacing. “It’s okay, Shiro. Really. It’s oka—” 

Suddenly his throat smokes up in flames and his vision swims. He jolts backwards and begins to cough intensely, blood splattering on his fingers. His eyes begin to water and even standing up causes him to lose his breath, so he finds himself bending over and holding himself as upright as he can with a hand on a desk. Shiro is shouting over him but he has not a clue about any words he’s saying, instead focusing on gasping for air. Thorns and pain are lightning in his throat and this is it. His acceptance. He’s going to die right here, right in front of Shiro. His eyes begin watering anew again, tears streaming down his face as he realizes he’s going to leave Shiro with a bloody image of himself.

Shiro’s fingers make him jump from his skin as they slide along his jawline and up to cup his cheeks. “Shiro—” Keith rasps, blood gathering at the edges of his lips. He tries to pull away, to cover his mouth before he spits out a petal or, even worse, a flower right onto Shiro before toppling over. But none of that happens. 

Instead, the pain screeches to an abrupt stop. His airways are clear. His lungs and chest no longer feel the weight of the world on them. He can  _ breathe _ . Most of all, he can collect himself. And in the process of collecting himself, he realizes that Shiro is kissing him. Full on kissing him, lips slotted together and pressed plush. Keith thinks he might stop breathing again or even die, but for a completely different reason. 

When Shiro finally pulls away, he stares down at Keith, eyes equally wet. “Keith,” he coos, carding his fingers through inky locks. “I’ve been trying to tell you this. I love you, too. And I’m sorry that it took this to make me realize that.” 

Keith isn’t sure what he’s hearing is even real. “That’s not possible,” he says in disbelief. “There’s no way. Not me, you must be lying. Shiro, I’m  _ nothing _ .” 

“But to me you’re  _ everything _ ,” Shiro quickly cuts in, holding Keith closer. “If I was lying don’t you think you would have kept coughing? Keith, I can’t imagine a world—a universe—without you in it. Every imperfection is a piece of who you are and I am invested in  _ all  _ of you, perfect or not.” 

_ Fuck _ . Fuck, he can’t cry again. Can’t embarrass himself more than he already has with this whole ordeal of a mess. 

But he’s so  _ relieved _ . 

He balls his fists tight into Shiro’s shirt, pushing his forehead into his chest. “You could have realized that  _ before  _ the choking on flowers, you know,” Keith hiccups, shaking his head. “But I’ll forgive you, since I love you.” He looks up again then with glossy indigo eyes, chin resting on Shiro’s sternum. There’s a hopeful little grin on his face. His eyes crinkle and he can’t help but scrunch his eyebrows together in pure wonder. 

“I can bet that I probably love you more,” Shiro jokes, leaning down to press his lips on the top of Keith’s hair. A hand smoothes down his back in gentle strokes, edging away the tension and soreness. “But I’ll let you win this time. You coughed up flowers because you loved me so much. That’s an accomplishment.” 

“Shut up,” Keith groans, lightly banging a fist on Shiro’s chest. 

“For you? I suppose, starshine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos are my source of energy ;3; <3 follow me on twitter @ [starkillling](http://www.twitter.com/starkillling/)!


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